


Looking For Something Wild

by dirtyinfluences



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Anonymous Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Club, Stranger Sex, Well - Freeform, there's a little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 01:30:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtyinfluences/pseuds/dirtyinfluences
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Putting advice to good use, Grantaire visits a local sex club where he ends up sleeping with a complete stranger while blindfolded. After, he spends his time trying to find His Stranger again.</p><p>(What he doesn't know his that His Stranger happens to be Enjolras)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking For Something Wild

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Kinkmeme [prompt](http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/13775.html?thread=11685839#t11685839):
> 
> So what about Grantaire silently pining over Enjolras (of course) for months and years and then he decides to visit a sex club and there's a stranger covering his eyes with a blindfold and that stranger doesn't talk, only with his hands they have the BEST SEX EVER (I don't mind bdsm in this, whatever the writer likes best) but the stranger leaves before Grantaire can take off the blindfold and he's dazed for DAYS and grinning stupidly and doesn't even interrupt the meetings.
> 
> Instead he's trying to find that stranger and sleeps with so many people and brings most of them to the musain until Enjolras gets furios and takes him with him and kisses him and takes him apart until Grantaire realises: oh fuck, he's my stranger

The tale of how he ended up with a text from Courfeyrac, containing the name and address of a sex club (‘X-Club’, how original, had been his first thought) he hadn’t even known existed before, wasn’t a particularly interesting one. Long story short, after a night of too much alcohol, they had been laying around some dude’s flat completely trashed, and Courfeyrac had suggested Grantaire deal with his undying pining by going out and fucking random strangers until he felt better. As if he hadn’t tried, Grantaire had retorted, but Courfeyrac assured him he just wasn’t fucking the right people and hey, he knew this really awesome place, you should give it a try!

It didn’t explain _why_ he had decided to actually go, though. Not that he was going to admit to Courfeyrac that he had actually decided to follow his advice – he was already way too smug for his own good – but it had been a while since he had last gotten laid, and as Courfeyrac had said in the text, it couldn’t hurt. The building itself wasn’t that sketchy looking, plain in appearance against the other places that surrounded it, and windows blacked out. So that was a positive note so far.

The inside wasn’t that sketchy either, thankfully, and the entrance fee wasn’t too ridiculous. Inside, it looked exactly like any other night club he had been to – dimly lit and flashing coloured lights, a dance floor, electronic dance music, and multiple bars. It wasn’t exactly what Grantaire had been expecting, if he was being honest. The only indication of what the club really was, was the corridor leading to a dozen or more rooms (there was also a stair case, which Grantaire assumed lead to more rooms). It was a familiar setting, and it helped Grantaire from feeling too out of place.

So Grantaire did what he does best – he hit up the bar, downed half a dozen shots in quick succession, and relocated himself to the dance floor. It wasn’t long before he found himself dancing between a couple, wedged between the two as their hands roamed, the man at his back and the woman in front of him. They were attractive, sure, but he didn’t feel any kind of pull towards either of them. But still, it was nice to let himself get lost in the music, head spinning from the combination of alcohol and dancing, from the feeling strong, sure hands guiding his movements and smaller hands teasing underneath his shirt.

It could have been a few minutes, it could have been an hour – techno songs had a habit of blending together into one giant song – but at some point the man at his back moved away, and with him his girl, but it took only a second for him to be replaced with someone else who circled an arm around his middle and pressed himself flush to Grantaire’s back. The change brought Grantaire back from his mindless state enough to try and see who it was he was now dancing with, but he only caught a flash of pale neck before his new dance partner placed a hand on his chin to keep him from looking at him, guiding his face back to looking ahead. It probably should have bothered Grantaire, that this guy (that much he could tell from the feel of his body, lean but still masculine, and from the strength of his grip) didn’t seem to want him to look at him, but it really didn’t. Not when he moved so perfectly in time with him, or when their bodies seemed to fit together so perfectly it was as if they were made for each other. 

So Grantaire leaned back into the stranger, bringing his arms up to loop around his neck as the other man’s hands found purchase at his hips, fingers flirting under the band of his jeans. The hair his fingers found was long enough to brush the man’s shoulders, about the same length as a certain other’s, and Grantaire let himself pretend the strands under his fingers were golden. They continued to dance, a slow gyrating of hips that was completely out of sync with the music, uncaring about any of the other bodies around them. Heat began building in the pit of Grantaire’s stomach, curling there and spreading out to the rest of his body. He felt hot all over, and he was sure he was sweating – yet, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

The only real coherent thought that Grantaire could muster, honestly, was that he would be very disappointed if he didn’t get to have sex with this stranger and his sinful dance moves.

As if reading his thoughts, the stranger started guiding him from the dance floor, pushing him in the direction of the corridor of rooms. With a groan, Grantaire moved to try and get a glimpse of the man, but was stopped again – this time with a kiss pressed behind his ear and a hand covering his eyes. Huffing out a laugh, Grantaire brought his hand up to join the one across his eyes.

“Alright, I can play this game.” He said, enjoying the way it caused his stranger to chuckle lightly. It was familiar in a way he couldn’t place, and it served to fan the fire already blazing in his blood. They stopped briefly, and there was some indistinct mumbling Grantaire couldn’t make out over the bass vibrating the floor, and then they were inside a room, lock clicking into place once the door was shut. The music, once deafening, became only a dull, muffled background noise.

His stranger moved his hand from his eyes with a lingering touch of fingertips over his closed eyelids which Grantaire took as asking to keep his eyes shut. It was a simple request, one Grantaire didn’t have to think twice about obeying. A second later, he felt something else slipping over his eyes – a blindfold, from the feel of it. His stranger hesitated, however, when his hands were at the back of his head.

“Go ahead,” Grantaire breathed, giving his stranger permission to tie the blindfold in place. As soon as it was snug, Grantaire was turned around, mouth crashing against his harshly. It was sort of painful, and their teeth clinked together uncomfortably at first, but once they got into the rhythm it was nothing short of perfection. His stranger pulled away from it with Grantaire’s lower lip still between his teeth, giving another little bite before letting it go. 

He was relying completely on his silent stranger, trusting him as he was maneuvered further into the room until the back of his knees hit a bed that his stranger lowered him onto with a hand at the back of his neck and the other at his waist. Scooting back onto the bed, Grantaire reached up to haul his stranger along with him. 

“Christ, please tell me you’re planning on fucking me. For the love everything, please. ” Grantaire begged, letting his hands roam over his stranger’s body, mapping out what he couldn’t see – he felt his way over His collarbones, up His neck and across His face, tracing down a straight, greek nose and sweeping over high cheek bones, thumbs brushing against full lips and fingertips tracing the curve of an adam’s apple. He let his hands drop down, sliding underneath his stranger’s shirt and up His stomach.

His stranger pulled back momentarily, hands going down to the hem of Grantaire’s shirt and lifting it up slightly, waiting until Grantaire sat up to get rid of it. Grantaire’s pants and boxers were quick to follow, and when his stranger pressed back against him, Grantaire could feel that His shirt was gone as well. His stranger wasted no time, mouth latching onto Grantaire’s neck and biting _hard_. In response, Grantaire groaned, arching into the other man, hands fisting into His hair and pulling tightly. Tongue followed teeth, and his stranger’s hand found its way down until he had Grantaire’s cock in grip, stroking him into full hardness.

Mirroring his stranger’s actions, Grantaire flicked open the button of His jeans, pushing underneath the layers of fabric to circle his fingers around His cock, pleased to find him just as hard as himself. It was satisfying to know he wasn’t the only one affected. His cock was a perfect weight in his hand as he flicked his wrist, running his hand from tip to root; it had a slight upward curve, Grantaire noted. 

Suddenly, he was being flipped over onto his front, and he reached out to grip onto the headboard of the bed for leverage. He was about to make a comment about how it didn’t matter if he was on his back or not, as he couldn’t see anyway, and that he had been quite comfortable as he was before, but before the words could leave his tongue, his stranger’s tongue was sweeping up the expanse of his back, starting at the small of it and following up the path of his spine. When his stranger reached the space between his shoulder blades, He placed a quick nip there before his mouth was set to seeking out Grantaire’s again. When they kissed, Grantaire could taste the salt of his own sweat upon the tongue and lips of his stranger; it was intoxicating, and he was reduced to rutting back against his stranger, pushing his ass back against His erection. 

“Come ooooon.” He groaned, throwing his head back. If he had to beg, he would do it gladly to alleviate the fire burning beneath his skin. 

Luck was with him, it seemed, and he was spared from begging. His words seemed to prompt his stranger into action, and he listened as he moved around, feeling the movement as He lean somewhere to the left. When He was settled back into place, Grantaire heard the tear of a packet being opened but it still didn’t prepare him for the shock of the lube, cool but not cold, that dripped onto the cleft of his ass, and the feeling tore a gasp out of him; a gasp that quickly turned into a moan when his stranger used His fingers to spread the lube further down, circling around his hole teasingly before pressing in carefully. 

Grantaire let go of the headboard then, bringing him arms down and pressing his face into the mattress to push his ass further into the air and back into the finger that breeched him, encouraging for more. He let himself get lost in the feelings of being stretched open – of more lube being applied before a second finger joined the first, probing and stretching, testing his limits before adding a third. Meanwhile, his stranger’s other hand held a firm grip on the cheek of his ass, spreading him open for view.

Once he was reduced to a shuddering, moaning mess, his stranger – who he still had yet to see or hear beyond the hitching and quickening of His breath –withdrew his fingers, and there was a crinkling of a condom packet being opened before finally, _finally_ , his stranger was pushing inside him. Grantaire moaned lowly as He slowly slid in, at the agonizingly slow pace and the feeling of being so completely wonderfully filled.

Once his stranger bottomed up, hips pressed snuggly against the curve of Grantaire’s ass (they slotted together like fitting puzzle pieces, Grantaire thought hazily), he held still for a moment, breathing in harshly through his nose. When he pulled back and shallowly thrust back in, carefully and as if he was testing out the waters, a strangled little groan escaped and it was then that Grantaire decided he wanted to hear Him go _wild_.

Wriggling his behind and circling his hips, Grantaire moaned appreciatively when it spurred his stranger into action, thrusts coming harder and faster now that it’s clear Grantaire can take it. Grantaire meets every thrust with his own backward pushes, unabashedly moaning loudly; if anyone can hear him, well… what else were they expecting in this kind of club? Pride surges through him when he can hear his stranger becoming more vocal, although he still doesn’t utter a word. 

“Fucking hell.” He panted, clenching down in a way that has his stranger’s hips stuttering momentarily. “I want to feel this for weeks. Every time I sit down, I want to be reminded of your cock in my ass, reminded of how perfectly you filled me, the way you pounded into me just like th-aahh-at.” Grantaire’s voice hitched at the end when a particularly hard thrust caused all his nerves to alight, tingling up his spine and a tightening in his gut. 

Before he could say anymore, his stranger had pulled out and flipped him over onto his back, guiding his legs around His waist and pushing back in. If it wasn’t for the blindfold, he’d be able to see Him like this; the urge to reach up and tear it off pulls at him, but instead he reaches up to twist his fingers into his stranger’s hair and tug insistently. He hooks his ankles together, shivering as the new angle allows his stranger’s thrust to drive harder and deeper. Fingertips swept over his collarbones, the touch light and almost loving, tracing along the prominent ridge. His thumb stops momentarily to rest against the jugular notch, the press firm and Grantaire’s breath hitches, imaging him circling his neck and pressing hard enough to cut off air. Before he can ask, the touch has moved down to his chest.

His stranger leaned in closer to Grantaire then, trapping his cock between their bellies and panting harshly into Grantaire’s ear, causing him to whine and arch his back in both an attempt to help deepen His thrusts and to cause more friction for his cock. Grantaire’s head is spinning, and he isn’t prepared for his orgasm when it hits him, sudden and blinding despite the fact a hand hasn’t touched his dick since his stranger started fucking him. It would be embarrassing if it wasn’t so fucking hot instead. His stranger continues to fuck him through the shocks, fingers tightening on his hips to the point of bruising and lips pressing back to his to capture the gasping, mewling sounds Grantaire’s orgasm had him making.

Grantaire can tell when his stranger comes, feels him going still for a moment before all the tension seeps out and He lets out a shuddering sigh, bonelessly leaning down into Grantaire. 

Sated and dazed and no doubt grinning like an idiot, Grantaire doesn’t think about his stranger leaving until suddenly he hears the door opening, causing him to bolt upright and grab at the blindfold.

“Hey, wait-!” He calls, but the door is already closed when he’s managed to pull the blindfold down. Staring at the door, as if his stranger is going to waltz back in, Grantaire finally thinks about what just happened, a shiver going up his spine. He just had completely anonymous sex with a stranger who he not only didn’t know the name of, but who he hadn’t even seen or heard speak. Yet, his body is aching with the need to know –who– and he’s overwhelmed with the need to see him again. Because Jesus Christ if that wasn’t some of the best sex he’s had in months.

\---

Grantaire is on cloud nine for days afterwards. 

The first day no one comments on the fact that Grantaire doesn’t interrupt the meeting even once, instead staying in his corner staring into nothing while grinning stupidly. There’s a few whispers, but no overtly concerned looks.

It quickly becomes a routine of sorts. He’ll go about his daily business, go to meetings when they’re held (still too preoccupied with thoughts of his stranger to interrupt), and then forgo his usual haunts to occupy himself at the sex club from before. Not that he’d admit it, but mostly he’s looking to run into His Stranger again. He sleeps with anyone that remotely looks or feels like he could be Him, sometimes even people who definitely wouldn’t be. Sometimes it’s only one person a night, and other nights he’ll roll out of the bed and go back out and hunt down someone else. 

Sometimes he’ll even take some of the men back to his place, forgoing the rooms of the club.

(None of them feel quite right, though.)

After about a week of this, he starts taking some of the men to Musain meetings with him – the ones he forms a sort of companionship with, despite none of them being the man he’s searching for, and mostly because it’s more convenient for him to meet them there before going back to his place for sex. Because, hey, they were great lays, great guys, and up for another go. Who’d turn that down?

Tonight he’s accompanied by a guy by the name of Mathieu. They met the night before at the club, and Grantaire had taken him back to his flat. Come morning, neither had anything to do, so they had stayed in bed for the better part of the afternoon, and Mathieu had followed him along to the meeting with a promise of more sex once it was over.

The way Mathieu is running his nails up the inner seam of his jeans, moving dangerously close to Grantaire’s crotch, has Grantaire even more distracted than normal and contemplating leaving early. The meeting seems mostly over anyway, but leaving early would also mean depriving himself of time spent in Enjolras’ presence. It’s a close tossup.

When he leans in to press his face into Mathieu’s neck, mouthing at the skin there and making the suggestion to leave, he completely misses the look Enjolras shoots his way. 

(Two parts annoyance, one part jealousy.)

“Well, my friends. It has now reached the time where I bid thee farewell and a good night. Urgent matters need be attended to. Don’t stay up too late without me.” Grantaire announces with flourish, standing up to bow jokingly to his friends. To his left, Courfeyrac wolf whistles at him, causing a grin to spread across his face. A grin which slides off his face when Enjolras stands up to address him.

“Grantaire. A moment, please?” Enjolras motions for Grantaire to follow him, walking out of the room with the same purposeful stride he always uses that never fails to cause Grantaire’s stomach to simultaneously drop and jump up into his throat. Swearing under his breath, Grantaire lingers long enough to tell Mathieu to go on ahead without him. If Enjolras is calling him out of the room to talk to him, it can only be bad. He doubts he’ll be in the mood to fuck after getting his ass reamed for whatever the fuck it was he did now. 

Once they’re in the backroom, alone and surrounded by boxes of stock, Grantaire closes the door, not wanting the Amis to hear whatever it was that was about to go down. Yet, when he turns back to Enjolras, he has an odd expression on his face – not the angry one Grantaire had been expecting.

“You wanted a moment, o fearless leader?” Grantaire inquires when Enjolras stays silent, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other. The look in Enjolras’ eyes turn calculating for a moment, before he flicks his gaze to the door.

“You’ve been bringing people to meetings.” He says, taking a step closer.

“Y’know, just spreading the message. I would have figured you’d be proud, Enjolras. Informing people of the cause and all that.” Grantaire replies, trying to keep the sudden unease out of his voice and masking it behind the lithe tone of sarcasm. Enjolras stopped when he was a hair’s breadth away, hand under Grantaire’s chin to keep his face tilted up to him. If Grantaire concentrated, he was sure he could feel the heat coming off Enjolras’ body. The proximity felt so familiar, even though he knew it shouldn’t.

“I’d rather if you stopped bringing these men.” Enjolras tells him. He doesn’t give Grantaire a chance to say anything back, pressing his mouth to his in a rough kiss, hand moving to cup the back of his neck.

Grantaire, meanwhile, doesn’t know if he should scream or not. On one hand, Enjolras is _kissing him_ , he should definitely be screaming. But, on the other hand, screaming would mean having to break the kiss. So, instead, he grips onto the back of Enjolras’ shirt, hauling him in to press his body against his. 

When the kiss breaks, Grantaire stares at Enjolras for a good moment, breathing harshly and hoping to god the other man doesn’t realize he just popped a boner from nothing more than a kiss. Well, a kiss and some explicit mental images, more specifically.

“If you promise to kiss me again, sure, yeah, your wish is my command.” He breathes, pleased when Enjolras responds by kissing him again.

He’s even more pleased when Enjolras’ hands start roaming, fingers sneaking up under the hem of his shirt, and then hooking into his belt loops to pull his hips in close to grind against him. There is no way he doesn’t notice Grantaire’s erection now, but then Grantaire becomes aware that Enjolras _is hard too_ and damned if the knowledge doesn’t go straight to Grantaire’s head.

When Grantaire is rocking into him of his own accord, Enjolras’ hands move from his hips, one of them coming up to rest at his neck. Grantaire swallows, and then Enjolras’ fingers are slipping around to loosely circle his neck, thumb rubbing over the corner of his collarbone before pressing into his jugular notch and the action is so familiar, the feel and pressure of it, and his body feels so perfect slotted against his that Grantaire can’t help but think back to the sex club and that night and His Stranger.

“Did we fuck at the X-Club??” It’s out of his mouth before he can properly comprehend the thought, and Grantaire feels himself turn completely red when he realizes what he’s just asked. It’s completely ridiculous, why would Enjolras be at a sex club in the first place, and the chances are so slim.

But Enjolras lets out a deep laugh, an Grantaire feels a little less foolish, somehow.

“You figured it out.” He whispers into his ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and sucking, and Grantaire’s knees threaten to give out on him.

“Can we. I. Please?” Usually articulate, Grantaire finds himself unable to be more eloquent with the combination of Enjolras pressing into him and the realization that his completely perfect stranger was none other than Enjolras himself. “My place?” He finally gets out, loathe to pull back but doing so anyway.

“As much as I want to take you right here, right now, your place is probably best.” Enjolras shrugs, and how the fuck does he look so nonchalant right now? Grantaire had dreamed of having sex with Enjolras for months, and apparently he already had without knowing it and Grantaire, personally, was internally flipping the hell out.

“Don’t think we aren’t talking about this after though. Because not only did we apparently already fuck – _why wouldn’t you tell me, you ass_ I’ve been pining for you for ages – but you were at a sex club, what the hell?” Grantaire grits out, still a little unable to really grasp the fact.

Grantaire is pretty sure he hears someone calling out after them when they rush out from their hiding place, but he really can’t be bothered to stop and see who when Enjolras’ hand is in his back jeans pocket and he’s guiding him out of the Musain.

**Author's Note:**

> It's 5am and I have class at 11, I apologize for any mistakes!
> 
> Thanks for reading, lovelies xoxo
> 
> Title from Ke$ha's Take it Off. Mostly due to seeing the greatest back and forth argument over whether the song is about a rave or a lifestyle club/sex club the other day.


End file.
